


Queer Survivor

by Josselin



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 3-14, the Pittsburgh gang watch Brian go on the newest hit TV show, Queer Survivor, in an attempt to replenish his finances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queer Survivor

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Starla for plot-planning help, Philflam for betaing, and everyone who encouraged me by commenting in my livejournal.

Michael and Hunter walk into the diner at 1:30 on a Tuesday, to find Justin taking his lunch break sitting in a booth with Emmett. "Hey," Michael greets them, and he's promptly covered with kisses from a squealing Emmett, who calls him baby and asks where he's been and when he got back and a bazillion other questions.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Michael says. "Can I get some lunch first? I'm starved."

Emmett promptly scoots over and Michael slides in next to him. Hunter is left standing next to the table since Justin doesn't move over and Hunter's still staring at Justin with a superior sort of smirk.

Michael rolls his eyes and gets up, shoving Hunter in next to Emmett and sitting down next to Justin, who moves over reluctantly. "We got back last night," Michael explains, "and after my mother almost killed us both with hugs, we got Hunter settled up in my old room—"

"Hey, that's my room!" Justin interrupts.

Michael turns to him with a smile, "Not anymore, boy wonder."

"I'm gonna go through all your stuff," Hunter tells him smugly, and Justin kicks Hunter's shin under the table.

"Hey!" Hunter says. "He kicked me," he complains to Michael, pointing at Justin.

"Now, boys, boys," Emmett intervenes, "let Michael continue his story, please. He's just about to get to the good part with 'I haven't seen my boyfriend in a month' reunification sex."

Hunter makes gagging noises. "Then I left Mom explaining the new rules to Hunter, and I went back to see Ben," Michael finishes.

"That story was anti-climatic," Emmett complains. "It needed more details at the end."

"Oh, there was plenty of climax, believe me," Michael says. Hunter begins to make gagging noises again.

Deb brings Michael and Hunter their orders, giving her three sons each an affectionate pinch on the cheek, and Emmett one too, for good measure.

"So," Michael says as the food is delivered, popping a fry into his mouth. Emmett, Justin, and Deb all mouth this predictable question along with him. "Where's Brian?"

Deb shrugs and snaps her gum before being called back to the kitchen, and Emmett raises his hands in an I-don't-know gesture, so Michael is forced to turn to Justin. Justin crumples up the napkin he had spread politely over his lap and throws it on his plate. "He's gone," he tells Michael.

Michael looks around at their faces, the slight smile on his face slowly transforming into a puzzled frown. "What do you mean, gone? Gone where?"

"We don't know, sweetie," Emmett says apologetically, reaching out to pat Michael's hand. Michael shrugs him off.

"Well, what did he say before he left?"

Justin clears his throat. "He told me that he was going away for a while, and that there wasn't going to be any way to reach him, and he didn't know when he'd be coming back. And he asked me to pick up his mail while he was gone, and pay his bills and stuff."

"Pay his bills?" Michael echoes incredulously, "No one has enough money to pay Brian's bills, not even him."

Justin gives a little shrug. "He left me his checkbook and told me that I should pay the minimum balance on everything that came in and that it would be okay."

"Brian left you his checkbook?" Hunter asks interestedly, but everyone else ignores him.

Michael is still reeling in shock. He keeps looking around, as though Brian's going to pop up from the booth behind Emmett and reveal this all to be an elaborate practical joke. "When did he leave?" He asks finally.

There's a short silence as Emmett looks intently at the wall and Justin swallows a sip of water. "Three weeks ago," Justin says finally.

"Three fucking weeks?" Michael says, almost hysterical. "He's gone off to God knows where and he's been gone for three fucking weeks and nobody knows what's happened to him?"

Emmett tilts his head to the side and looks pointedly at his former roommate. "Yeah, it's a little bit like what you did, honey."

Michael looks affronted. "I told people I was going! And I had to go, because of the police, and, and…" he stutters off, and then rounds on Justin with questions. "How did he leave without a car? Did he take anything with him?"

"He took a duffle bag and he caught a taxi." Justin offers.

"God, was he in trouble or something? Did he have to run from the police? From that prick Stockwell?" Michael keeps shaking his head in shock, staring at the food on his plate. "What if he's depressed, about his job and everything? What if he goes off to do something stupid, like get drunk and get a tattoo—"

"Hey, I like Brian's tattoo," Justin interrupts, at the same moment that Hunter interestedly asks, "Brian has a tattoo?"

"Or go sky-diving in Mexico, or…kill himself or something," Michael continues, a panicked look on his face.

"Christ," Michael says, turning to Justin. "You should have stopped him!"

"How could I have stopped him?" Justin asks, finally getting defensive. "He was of sound mind, and he's a lot bigger than I am."

"That's not what I hear," Emmett says as an aside, giving Justin a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Justin turns to Emmett, rolling his eyes. "I mean he's taller than I am."

"Could you two be serious for one minute?" Michael says, exasperated.

"Give Sunshine a break," Emmett tells Michael. "You know how Brian is. When he's got his mind set on something, there's nothing anybody could do to stop him. And this'll be good for him. Give him some time to be alone, work out what he wants to do with his life—"

"It'll give him a lot time to fuck a lot of guys and OD on drugs, that's what it'll do," Michael says.

Emmett just shrugs and turns to see if Justin can talk any sense into Michael. Justin's opening his mouth to say something more—maybe admit that he, too, is worried about where Brian is, and what he might be doing, but there's nothing either of them can do about it, is there?—when Deb calls them over to the small TV set on the counter.

"Hey, guys, it's the first episode of that new show that replaced Gay as Blazes, Queer Survivor!"

"Ohh!" Emmett claps his hands together excitedly. "I've been wanting to see this," he confides, leaning across the table. "Let me out," he tells Hunter, scooting out of the booth.

All four of them migrate over towards the television, where they see shots of a pristine Caribbean island beach and jungle, small little huts made out of palm fronds, and finally the collection of bronzed and oiled men, all only wearing cut-off jean shorts.

"Look at that landscape," Emmett says, sighing.

"All those men," Justin adds.

"That's what I meant," Emmett says indignantly. "I think this is my new favorite show," he continues.

"Our third contestant is from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania," the announcer says, and Emmett squeals and elbows Justin excitedly.

"Maybe we've met him," Emmett says. "It'd be cool to know someone famous."

But Justin's a step ahead of Emmett, and has turned to look at Michael, who's having the same revelation.

"He wouldn't," Michael says, shaking his head.

Justin scrunches his nose and turns back to the screen, starting to worry.

"A thirty-two year old former ad-exec, Brian Kinney!" And on the tiny diner television screen, almost drowned out by clanging silverware and the diner bell, Brian's image appears, looking tanned and confident, and unbelievably hot.

"He did," Justin concludes.

* * *

The premier episode ends, and Emmett rushes off to get back to work, Hunter is cruising a guy sitting in one of the front booths, and Justin and Michael sit side by side in front of the television, which has now switched to a cooking show featuring a fat lady with a tall chef's hat.

"Well," Michael says finally, "at least we know he's all right."

Justin gives a weak kind of laugh that's more just like a chuff of air. "Except he's lost his mind."

"If you think about it," Michael offers, "it's probably debatable whether Brian was ever really sane to begin with."

They sit in silence again.

"So when's the next episode?" Justin asks.

"I don't know," Michael says, and the two of them spring into action, Michael grabbing Justin's arm as they get off their stools. "Let's go find a TV guide."

* * *

The first episode had aired at various times on Tuesday, but after the premier, Queer Survivor is on every Tuesday evening at eight. The gang always gathers to watch, along with ninety-nine percent of gay Pittsburgh, who are all interested in seeing the hottest new show on the air and their fixture from the Babylon backroom forced to perform stupidly contrived island tasks.

Justin and Michael and Emmett are understandably given priority seating up close to the TV in front, at the bar. Ben stands behind Michael, with his arms around him, because they're still in the kissy reunification stage of their relationship—Justin fondly remembers that stage, back before his boyfriend decided to randomly leave one morning—but Hunter prefers to skulk around the back of the bar, avoiding the guys and Debbie and Vic's table.

The first episode had introduced each of the twenty guys on the island, and divided them into four different teams. Brian had ended up on the Peacock team. Melanie had snorted when she heard that. "Someone's figured him out," she commented. Once divided into teams, the contestants had to elect a team leader and then complete their first project, which was to build a sandcastle to certain specifications: it had to have one tower that was at least three feet tall, and incorporate three objects from a treasure chest that they had to find on the other side of the island.

Brian's team had elected a redhead appropriately named Sandy as their team captain, and Justin had watched, fascinated, as Brian did almost nothing during the whole election process. He sat in his chair that was pushed back so he was half in the corner of their hut, and he didn't contribute anything to the discussion, either in the form of trying to promote himself as the team leader the way all of the other guys were, or in preferring one or the other of the guys as the elected representative. "See," Debbie had said back at the diner, raising a painted nail to point her finger at the screen, "he's learned his lesson about getting involved in elections."

The Peacocks' sandcastle looked like a giant phallic monument when they were done. While they discussed architectural possibilities, Brian had been assigned to follow the "treasure map" to retrieve the team's three treasure objects.

"Uh, oh," Michael said. "Now they're in trouble. Brian can't follow a map for shit."

It had indeed seemed like Brian was wandering aimlessly through the jungle, cursing occasionally at branches that seemed to pop out of nowhere and slap him in the face. But he eventually reached the treasure chest, which Hunter pointed out looked exactly like pirate chests from the movies. When he got there, the cameras following the other three team representatives trying to find the chest revealed that they were all still wandering around in the forest. Brian stood next to the chest and then turned round in a slow circle, trying to see if anyone else was coming. When he didn't see anyone, he bent over, allowing the camera to get a nice shot of his rear end, and opened the chest. Instead of grabbing just three of the brightly colored dildos and heading right back to his team's castle, Brian gathered as many as he possibly could in his arms, which was about eight, and headed off into the jungle in a random direction. He dumped the dildos in groups of two: two in a palm bush, two under a large rock, two thrown up a tree, and two tossed down to the bottom of a small stream. Then he went back to the chest and grabbed the three that he needed, leaving one lonely dildo sitting at the bottom of the open chest.

The Peacocks won the sandcastle activity despite Sandy accidentally knocking over the tower during a bit of macho posing and having to rebuild. They won simply because none of the other teams were able to complete the assignment at all, not having their three pieces of treasure to include in the project. So at the end of the episode, the team unanimously voted Sandy off the island, and elected Brian to be their new team captain.

The show hostess was an annoying blonde woman named Lisa. She had short spiky hair that spoke of hours in a makeup tent and not harsh survival on an island. She questioned Brian about his treasure retrieving techniques. "It doesn't quite seem fair, what you did," she said, "hiding all the other team's materials."

Brian laughed. "Who said anything about fair? I want to win. Besides," he continued with a knowing smile, "if you hadn't wanted somebody to steal all the materials and make your show more interesting, you wouldn't have sent us all to the same trunk."

The second episode goes back in time, showing the sixteen remaining contestants when they arrived, and the luxury materials that they brought with them. Brian's duffle bag is opened to reveal hundreds of condoms and the largest container of lube that Emmett's ever seen. "And that's saying something," Emmett points out, "cause I used to work in a porn studio. And Teddy bought in bulk. It's more economical," he tells Justin.

On the television, Lisa laughs at Brian's luggage. "A bit ambitious, hmm?" Brian just smiles enigmatically.

Apparently there's been some action in the Peacock hut, because the youngest member of their team, a twenty-three-year-old med student, takes every opportunity possible to cling to Brian in a needy, possessive way. Brian shakes him off irritably, and finally sends him on a water-gathering mission. He goes readily, happy to fulfill any tasks Brian gives him.

When the med student suggests to the group that they decorate their hut with some flowers, he and Brian finally get in a fight.

"No fucking flowers," Brian says firmly. The show editors beep out Brian's expletives, but anyone who knows him has a good idea of what he's saying.

The annoying student sidles up to Brian and wraps his arms around Brian's chest as Brian looks at him with disgust. "Flowers are romantic," he says throatily, "they'll put me in the mood."

Brian sticks his tongue in his cheek. "All the more reason, then" he says snidely, "to not have any."

The student steps back and looks affronted. "You liked it well enough last night," he complains.

Brian pushes the student aside and leaves the hut. "I don't do repeats."

A guy from the back of Woody's calls out, "You tell him, Kinney!" There's a general roar of applause at the newbie's introduction into Brian's ways. Justin shakes his head slowly, but he's smiling.

Not unsurprisingly, the med student is voted off the island at the end of the episode.

* * *

Life for Justin seems to be on an odd sort of hold, measured out by the number of diner shifts he has between Queer Survivor episodes, and the uncountable number of guys who have decided that with Brian being obviously out of town, it's time to hit on Justin. He takes a number of them up on their offers, and the way he feels afterward, walking alone back to Brian's 'vette, reminds him of the way he felt in that strange depressed period between Ethan and Brian II.

Michael comes over to the loft one evening so that he and Justin can spread out all of the proofs for the latest issue over the conveniently empty floor space. As they do final checks, Justin says, "What do you think the next issue should be about?"

Michael looks up from the proof sheets, and they stare at each other for that moment of silence that seems to be becoming a fixture in their relationship, that moment of common knowledge, of bonding together over the inexplicable psychoses that come from knowing one Brian Kinney.

"How do you feel about drawing palm trees?" Michael asks finally.

* * *

It's the third episode—after Brian has managed to snag a fish in his net, winning a victory for the Peacock team, and snag three more guys onto his list of conquests as well—when hostess Lisa asks Brian if he has a boyfriend. Justin hates to admit it, but his heart catches in the moment between Lisa's question and Brian's answer. He tries to tell himself that it's not that he couldn't take the "No" response from Brian, but it's the circumstances—how embarrassing to be publicly disclaimed on national television in front of everyone he knows, half of whom are here with him at Woody's. Hell, he even found out a few days ago that his mother is following the show closely.

"Sort of," Brian answers, and that's enough to make Justin's heart start beating again.

"And how does your sort-of boyfriend feel about you being away and sleeping with all these other guys?" Lisa asks coyly.

Brian fingers his cowry shell bracelet. "He's probably wishing he remembered to set the VCR," Brian says, with a small, self-satisfied smile. And Justin manages to laugh somewhat naturally along with all the rest of the guys in the bar.

"So, Taylor," a guy in a tight gray t-shirt calls to Justin during the commercials following the credits, "did you set the VCR?" This sets off another round of good-natured laughter in the bar.

"Why record what you can see any time you want?" Justin manages, sparking more laughter, and he grins, until he has to excuse himself to use the restroom. He's splashing some water on his face when the guy in the gray t-shirt comes in, coming up behind him to stand really close. He's hot, with a nice chest that he's obviously not reluctant to show off.

"Hey," the guy says softly, "you wanna come back to my place? I think I can find some videos that you haven't seen before," he says with a knowing grin.

Justin stares at his reflection in the mirror for a moment, closing his eyes briefly before looking back at the guy. "You drive," he says.

* * *

Lindsay records the episodes on her VCR, and then carefully edits out some parts to show to Gus in answer to his questions about where Daddy is. Gus likes the tape immeasurably, and watches it at least seventeen times every afternoon, which is about the time Mel's about to scream and rip it out of the VCR and burn it.

Mel's on partial bed rest, with not much to do besides watch television, and she complains vocally about how not only is The Brian Kinney Show aired one hour every week, but the hype that the show and it's popularity is creating means that she can't escape it on any station. "It's on the news, every fucking day," she tells Lindsay one morning. "Who was booted off the island this week? What miniscule sort of offense did they make to King Kinney? How many treaties did Kinney manage to make with the other hapless islanders?"

"Don't get so worked up," Lindsay fusses, setting a breakfast tray down on the nightstand.

"I can't help it," Mel says. "I'm too frustrated. Why don't any of those idiots come to their senses and boot the asshole off the island?"

"Well," Lindsay says reasonably, "if I were stranded on a desert island, I think Brian would be a good person to be stranded with. Look how he managed to catch that rabbit with a snare. He provides for his friends."

"Oh, that's all rigged," Mel insists, pulling the blankets over her head. "Like there are really little white bunnies hopping around tropic islands."

Lindsay shrugs and eats part of a bagel.

"If I were stranded on a desert island," Mel proclaims, "the absolute last person I'd want with me is Brian Kinney. Christ, the thought of it makes me nauseous. I'd rather be dead than on an island with Brian Fucking Kinney."

* * *

In Ted's little rehab room, Ted and Blake sit down to watch the French opera about Melisande and the man who loves her on his tiny television. When he turns the set on and fiddles with the channels using the little dial, he finds that the opera has been pre-empted for a critical discussion of the most popular new show on television—Queer Survivor. This week on Queer Survivor, the most popular leading contestant, Brian Kinney, had run out of other islanders to fuck, and moved on to the cameramen.

Ted turns to Blake, groaning. "I thought you said I was over the worst of it now."

Blake gives a nervous smile. "What do you mean?"

"Obviously I'm hallucinating. Because there is no way that they would actually pre-empt opera to show a program entirely devoted to analyzing the sex life of Brian Kinney. Shit, how did there even get to be a program about Brian? I lived the Brian Kinney show for years—I know it's not worth syndicating. Has television sunk to a new low?"

Blake's distracted by the screen, where the cameraman has left the film running as naked Brian coaxes him over to a convenient and picturesque waterfall. "It's like porn on PBS."

"So you can see it, too? I'm not imagining this?" Ted queries, looking back over at the screen, where Brian is standing in the middle of the waterfall, his head arched back with water cascading over his chest, as the camera guy sucks him off.

"That's really hot," Blake says finally.

"It is porn on PBS," Ted says. "Gay porn. I never thought I'd see the day."

* * *

In episode seven, Brian, who had previously been distinctly in the lead, loses a lot of ground with fans and islanders when he freaks out and almost kills one of his teammates. The island is down to two teams now. Two of them were disbanded when the first groups of guys were voted off the island, and Brian recruited what he thought were the best of the rest to join the Peacocks under his lead.

One of the Peacocks named Stan, at forty-three one of the oldest guys on the island, has a thick branch that he likes to use as a walking stick. He carries it around when they hike places, and uses it for various activities like digging up edible roots and brushing their Frisbee out of a tree.

The walking stick has irritated Brian since the very beginning, making him edgy. He repeatedly tells Stan to put it away, get rid of it, "get it the fuck out of my sight," and Stan gives him weird defiant looks and ignores him, continuing to carry his stick around.

One day, when the Peacocks are navigating an obstacle course in the jungle, Stan spots a parrot in one of the trees and uses his stick to point it out, narrowly avoiding hitting one of the other Peacocks in the head.

Brian loses it. He rips Stan's stick out of his hands and chucks it out into the jungle. "What the fuck are you doing?" Stan asks, startled and pissed off.

"What are you doing?" Brian counters angrily, grabbing Stan by the shoulders and slamming him up against a tree trunk. "I've told you a hundred times to get that fucking bat out of my sight—"

Brian gets cut off as the other Peacocks pull him bodily off Stan. Stan shakes himself bewilderedly, using one hand against the tree trunk to hold himself up. Brian shrugs off the other Peacocks and curses, then stalks off into the jungle, the other men's eyes following him warily.

The show eagerly follows the ensuing action. The Peacocks finish the obstacle course without Brian, losing points for being without one of their team members. They return to their camp and hut, where Stan lies down on his stomach and complains a lot about the bruises he has on his back from their maniac team captain. One of the other five guys gives him a careful massage, and they all discuss what they should do.

Stan's in favor of voting Brian off the island. "Look," Stan acknowledges, "I know he's been a good leader so far. But clearly he's cracked under the strain or something. Shit, he almost killed me."

The other guys generally agree that Brian's lost it, but aren't quite sure they want to vote him off. "We have to remember that by this point, we'd all be dead without him," one of them points out. "And he's personally gained more than half of our team's points."

The guy with glasses adds, "And Stan, you did almost hit me in the head with your stick."

Their discussion continues deep into the night, as Stan's moaning and groaning about his bruises gets louder and louder until the other guys leave the hut to go talk out by the campfire. When the fire has finally burned down to embers, Brian appears out of the darkness. He approaches the fire sort of diffidently, as the other guys watch him carefully, waiting for some sort of apology or explanation.

Brian clears his throat finally, but says only, "I found one of the bonus coconuts." There are three coconuts hidden on the island each worth fifty extra points for whatever team finds them, up until now none of them had been seen yet. Brian sets the coconut down near the fire, and heads back to the hut.

After spending the rest of the night listening to Stan's complaints, the whole team is more than ready to vote Stan off the island and take their chances with Brian.

At Woody's, after the episode, Emmett buys Justin a couple of shots. "You look like you need them, honey," he says gently.

"Thanks," Justin says.

Michael gives Justin a one-armed hug around his shoulders as he leaves the bar, and Ben affectionately ruffles Justin's hair. "You know, if you ever need anything—to talk, or just have some company or what—you're always welcome over at our place," Ben offers.

Justin nods. "Thanks," he says again.

Deb kisses Justin's forehead on her way out, dragging Vic by the arm, but he resists. "You go on ahead," he tells Deb, and she leaves with the car. Justin raises his eyebrows when Vic sits down on the stool next to him.

Vic nods towards Justin's row of empty shot glasses. "I think you're going to need someone to drive you home."

Justin laughs weakly and rests his elbows on the bar, leaning down to rest his face on his hands. "Vic," he says finally, "I don't know if I can take five more weeks of this."

Vic thinks to himself that Justin's unimaginably naive if he thinks this'll all be over in just five weeks, but reaches over to pull Justin into a hug. "Sure you can, Princess. Sure you can."

* * *

Brian's always been somewhat famous in Justin's eyes—everyone on Liberty Avenue's heard of him at least—but it was one thing to be Brian Kinney's twink and it's quite another thing when his little sister wants to take her friends on tours through Brian Kinney's loft, when he can't even go to Best Buy without seeing his lover's face in triplicate on giant screens.

He's been spending a lot of time at the loft because it gives him time to be alone, and because it reminds him that while everyone in the English-speaking world (and some non-English speakers watching dubbed versions) knows every detail of his boyfriend's life, at least he's the only one in Brian's apartment.

Justin doesn't think he can smile his way through another episode at Woody's, but of course Brian's sold his television, so he can't watch by himself at the loft, and couldn't videotape the episodes even if he wanted to. Finally he asks Daphne if she could give him some time alone on Tuesday night, and she stares at him for a moment before taking the hint and promising to go over to her boyfriend's place to watch the eighth episode. "That'll be convenient, anyway," Daphne says, "since watching all those hot guys makes me horny."

Justin groans, leaning back on her couch and covering his face with a throw pillow. "Please tell me you did not just say that watching my boyfriend on national television makes you hot," he says, somewhat muffledly.

"Hey," Daphne says, "you're not the only one with good taste."

* * *

In episode eight, Brian regains a lot of popularity with the other islanders by sharing the weed he's been cultivating in a small patch in the jungle. After a lot of hilarity around the campfire, Brian and his assignation for the night—a black guy named Jake—head off down to the beach, taking their joints with them. Brian's pretty high, giggling randomly; Jake's less so, but obviously horny and eager to get on with the sex. The camera follows behind them.

Brian stops on the beach in front of the ocean, and spreads his arms out wide, staring up at the stars. "D'you think," he asks Jake, who's busy shedding his jean shorts, "that if I just kept swimming and swimming, I could get off this shithole?" He seems to be referring to the ocean, but he's still staring up at the sky.

"Eh, I don't know," Jake says disinterestedly. "Why, you want to get off this island?"

"Hell, yeah," Brian says, looking down, where Jake is now removing Brian's own shorts. Brian obligingly steps out of them when Jake lowers them down to his ankles.

"Wouldn't mind leaving it myself, I suppose," Jake says. "I'd kill for a cup of Starbucks." Brian laughs in agreement. "Why, what do you miss?" Jake asks.

"Mmm," Brian says, staring out at the ocean now, as though contemplating how far, exactly, he would have to swim. "I miss…sunshine," he says finally, cupping his hand around the back of Jake's head as Jake licks his balls.

Brian's response is weird enough for Jake to stop what he's doing and stare up at Brian. "Sunshine?" He echoes incredulously. "Man, you must be stoned, because if there's anything we're not lacking out here, it's sun."

Brian bites his lip. "Mmno," he slurs.

Jake ignores this incoherent comment. "Not now, obviously, cause it's night, but in the morning, man, and early in the morning, there's more sun than I ever wanted to see. Reflecting off the water and the sand, even. I could go for some a/c, that's what I want," Jake says.

Brian doesn't say anything more; he just guides Jake's head back to his dick.

* * *

The weed episode gives Melanie ever more anti-Queer Survivor fodder. "All this show does is promote devious semi-illegal underhanded dealings, promiscuity, and drug use," she tells Lindsay, who can tell she's spent all day working out her arguments against the show.

"Oh, and that makes it so different from all of the other shows on television," Lindsay says, rolling her eyes.

"But it's worse now, because it's perpetuating stereotypes about gay people," Mel continues. "It's encouraging the public to think of all gay people as being like Brian Kinney!"

"So what do you think a show should be about?" Lindsay asks. "After all, we all saw what happened to Gay as Blazes."

Mel gets up on her knees and crawls across the couch to sit next to her wife. "I think," Mel says, settling in next to Lindsay and stroking her neck, "that there should be a show about a kick-ass lesbian lawyer who fights against injustice and evil stereotypes."

"Oh?" Lindsay says, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh huh," Mel nods. "And her beautiful and talented blonde wife and their wonderful children." Lindsay runs her hand through Mel's hair, which has gotten remarkably longer during her pregnancy.

"I don't think anyone would watch that," Lindsay says.

"No?" Mel says archly, trailing her lips along Lindsay's neck. "Just think of the appeal," she suggests. "Hot sex after work," Mel continues.

"While the kids are asleep?" Lindsay asks.

"Eh, kids always conveniently disappear on TV shows," Melanie claims.

"That's not a stereotype you're trying to fight?" Lindsay queries, giving Mel an arch smile.

"Just picture it," Mel says, going on to describe the women's bodies moving together, the camera angles—obviously a fantasy she's put some time into. Lindsay just looks uncomfortable. "What's wrong?" Mel asks finally.

Lindsay turns to face Mel on the sofa. "Mel, you know how I feel about porn…it just…makes me uncomfortable, to think about other people watching."

Mel sits up. "Jesus, I thought we were over that."

Lindsay looks affronted. "Over what?" She asks sharply. "I can't help what doesn't turn me on."

"You don't seem to be bothered by watching Brian at all," Mel says snidely, and Lindsay flushes.

"It's different, with him," Lindsay protests, but Mel just snorts and carefully raises herself off the sofa to go up the stairs to bed.

* * *

By the tenth episode, the island is down to only four guys: Brian, Jake, and two other guys named Rohan and Mark. Jake's Brian's real competition—both Rohan and Mark only seem to have made it this far by being innocuous. They've mostly managed to not irritate anyone else on the island by being completely caught up in each other, engaged in an endearing romance, they've captured the hearts of the fans. However, now Rohan and Mark are facing a problem, and Mark comes to Brian for help. The issue? Mark wants to borrow some rubbers from Brian.

"Borrow?" Brian repeats, raising an eyebrow at this questionable choice of verb.

"Okay," Mark acknowledges, "I want you to give them to me. It's not like they just grow on trees or anything." This comment is made funnier by the fact that there are actually rubber trees on the island, but of course they don't do Mark any good. Not everyone can be as prepared as Brian.

Brian considers this for a moment. "Look," he tells Mark finally. "There's an election tonight. I want Jake off the island. He's off, you come to me tonight and I'll give you five condoms."

"Five?"

"In another week, either you or Rohan's going to be off the island anyway, so you won't need more than that."

"But there are seven days before then," Mark objects, not even attempting to argue that maybe Brian would be the one voted off the island in a week, which is maybe why Brian isn't particularly worried about getting them off and is focusing his attention on Jake.

"Plan carefully," Brian advises him. "It's five or none."

Jake gets voted off that evening, and Brian remains true to his word. A deal's a deal.

* * *

In the loft, Justin is struggling with Brian's finances. Brian, despite being compulsively anal about things in general, is horribly disorganized with his money. He doesn't balance his checkbook; he doesn't have a budget. He told Justin once that after seeing his mother meticulously record where every penny went and then nag his father about how much money he must be spending on alcohol, he swore that he was never going to have to think about money when he was grown up, and he seems to have done fairly well with that goal.

But now Justin's gotten a notice from the bank that two of Brian's checks have bounced, so he spends an afternoon in the loft calling Brian's bank and punching in Brian's social security number and account codes, with the eventual conclusion that Brian is out of money.

Justin stares at the various bills that he's organized, the threatening letters from the bank about overdrawn fees, and bites his lip. Finally he pads over to his backpack, takes out his own checkbook, and carefully balances that as well. Biting his lip again and staring wistfully at his balance, he resolutely flips it open and begins writing out the checks, signing his own name now.

He begins taking extra shifts at the diner, partially to make up for his sudden lack of funds and partially to give himself something more to fill the time so that he doesn't go insane. When he collapses exhausted into Brian's bed, at least now he only dreams of customers complaining about getting one of Deb's fake fingernails in their food.

There's a lot of extra time available because the diner lost two of its main waiters recently—they got together and decided to live their dream of moving to Canada and roughing it in a shack. So Justin signs himself up for a lot of the spots on the schedule.

The plan somewhat backfires, though, when Michael and Ben decide that Hunter should find a summer job, and who would hire a sixteen-year-old former hustler besides Debbie? Especially when the diner is short on people. (Actually, Michael's first suggestion was that Hunter apply at the Big Q, but Hunter loudly dismissed this as being 'unbelievably nerdy,' much to Justin's amusement. Once he's stuck working with Hunter forty hours a week, he's starting to wish he hadn't laughed quite so loudly.)

Justin's only consolation is that he makes way better tips than Hunter, because he's more experienced. And he's cuter.

* * *

Lisa, the blonde airhead hostess of Queer Survivor, forgets to turn off and unplug her curling iron one evening, and her whole tent catches on fire. Brian, out for a solitary walk, notices the smoke emerging from under the canvas of her abode, and bravely rushes into the flaming tent to carry a half-asleep and smoke-choked Lisa out of the tent.

The cameras catch the whole daring rescue on film, of course, just in time for the eleventh episode. Brian's fame increases exponentially, with pictures of him—face brushed with ash but grimly determined—carrying the languishing blonde away from the fire on the front of every major newspaper.

Lisa, who had been flirty with all of the contestants before, is now obviously completely besotted. She clings to his arm, much to his consternation, and rests her head against his shoulder and calls him "my hero." Brian swallows and obviously tries to avoid gagging.

In one of their interviews, Lisa brings up the subject once again. "How does it feel to be a real hero?" She coos at Brian.

Brian shrugs, looking uncomfortable. Then he turns towards Lisa and the camera and makes a startling comment. "I'm a superhero, actually."

Lisa looks slightly taken aback, and covers this with a girlish giggle. "What do you mean, Bri?"

"I mean," Brian says, "that some of my friends produce their own comic book—it's called Rage—and I was the inspiration for the superhero."

Lisa smiles brightly at this. "Well, who better than you?" She says. "Brian Kinney," she pronounces, "my hero and the savior of the world."

* * *

On Friday of week eleven—Justin has started to think of them by their numbers, now—Michael runs into the diner in the middle of the afternoon. He comes right up to the counter, and shouts to Justin. "Justin! C'mere!"

Hunter comes right over to try to peer over Michael's shoulder, but Mikey's finally found someone who's shorter than he is. Justin wipes his hands on his apron and comes over behind the counter. "Get back to work," he tells Hunter acidly, "What is it?" he asks Michael.

Hunter sticks out his tongue petulantly at Justin as he sulks away, and Justin wants to slap him, but forces himself to focus his attention on Michael instead. "Why aren't you at the shop?" He asks.

"This is way more important," Michael says, leaning in confidentially. He's obviously excited. "You'll never guess who I just got a call from."

"Who?" Justin prompts wearily.

He gives a name, but Justin obviously doesn't respond appropriately since he has no idea who this is, so Michael continues, "It's the biggest comic book publisher in the country!" Michael tells him. "Well, actually, they're located in Canada. So, the whole continent, I guess," he corrects himself.

"Why did they call?" Justin asks, trying to steer Michael back on topic.

"They checked out the latest issue of Rage after Brian mentioned it on Queer Survivor this week, and now they want to pick it up as part of their line, right away this fall, so they can capitalize on the Queer Survivor connection."

Justin finds himself with the beginnings of a grin because Michael's happiness is just too infectious. "So what does this mean?" He asks Michael.

"This means," Michael says, gripping Justin's shoulders enthusiastically over the counter, "that we get to do the same thing we've been doing, but with thousands of dollars," he slows down here, pronouncing each word—thousands of dollars—individually, "worth of revenue."

"Wow," Justin says. A customer tries to flag Justin's attention to get some lemon bars to go. Justin shakes his head slightly. "Hunter," he calls, "Get this guy some lemon bars!" Justin turns back to Michael, still disbelieving and not quite able to match Michael's excitement. "We'll be rich," he says to Michael.

Michael nods quickly. "And maybe someday I'll actually get to see Rage on a cereal box."

Justin's grinning fully by this point, trying to let himself forget that this success, too, is all because of Brian, "Fruit Loops," he remembers, teasing Michael. "I want to animate a Rage cartoon," he confides.

"Hey," Michael says, spreading his arms wide, "Hollywood, here we come!"

* * *

When Brian actually wins on the twelfth episode of Queer Survivor, it's kind of anti-climactic. Mark left the island after the fire, and then Rohan pretty much spent the last days moaning in anguish over the separation and refusing to participate in any of the activities; Brian had been hundreds of points ahead anyway.

Lisa flutters around Brian, fussing a lot and finally hands him the check; Brian accepts it with somewhat of a sour look on his face.

At Woody's there's a thunderous applause and roar of cheering for Brian, but it all feels empty to Justin, not at all the elation he had felt when they had heard the news about the Stockwell loss.

Emmett drags him off to Babylon to celebrate, where it's—appropriately—island night, with all the guys wearing leis and little palm fronds decorating everything. He dances with Emmett for a while, refuses some laughing attempts to get him to join the grass-skirt strip tease happening on the stage, and spends the rest of the night in the backroom.

* * *

Justin happens to be in the kitchen when Brian finally opens the loft door. He's sitting on one of the stools at the counter, ostensibly drawing, but he's been staring at the same sketch of Rage emerging from the fire for the past two hours without adding anything to it.

Brian slides the door open, and walks in, looking around, stepping almost tentatively, as though he isn't quite sure what he'll find inside. Perhaps he's disoriented by the lack of furniture. Living here for four months, Justin's gotten used to it, but Brian's been away for a long time.

Finally Brian's eyes settle on Justin at the counter, and he stops his approach, still only a few feet in the door, and gently sets his duffle bag on the floor, the loft door still open behind him.

They both wait for the other to say something.

"I was worried about you," Justin says finally. His voice isn't accusing at all, merely stating the facts. He forces himself to continue. "I missed you," he admits, staring at Brian evenly.

Brian turns his head to the side, eyeing the doorframe and refusing to make eye contact. Finally he turns his head back, looking at Justin again. "I brought you a present," he offers kind of diffidently.

Justin raises an eyebrow, and Brian bends over to open his duffle bag. Brian looks vaguely as though he was wishing the homecoming had all happened differently, as though he had tried to ignore the nagging thoughts he'd had about leaving his family without telling them anything and had just pictured walking in and having Justin throw himself at him and then having great sex fucking Justin on the Italian leather sofa that isn't here anymore.

Brian unzips the bag, and shuffles stuff around for a moment before finding what he's looking for and standing back up with a coconut in his hand.

"You brought me a coconut?" Justin says, and Brian nods, biting his lip and smiling kind of tentatively, as though he's still wishing they could skip all this emotional drama and get on to the make up sex.

"Yeah," Brian says. "I kept it in my hut and called it Little Twat and it kept me company," he offers, with an attempt at a grin, though he's not totally sure how that will be received.

But Justin can't help but laugh at that response, and that gives Brian the courage to walk over to Justin, close enough to touch, and Justin swats Brian's arm and says, "You asshole," and then Brian pulls Justin close and finally, finally, their lips meet.

Justin feels like that first kiss could go on forever, but Brian pulls away. "I have to go to New York tomorrow," Brian says, his face still close to Justin's but avoiding eye contact again by staring over Justin's shoulder.

Justin waits until Brian looks him in the eyes again. "Talks shows, promotional stuff," Brian explains.

"Uh huh," Justin says slowly, his face not totally revealing what he's thinking, and then he pulls Brian's face in again for another kiss, and that's the end of that discussion.

The first fuck is good; Justin's still smiling over the coconut and Brian's obviously happy to see him. But when he wakes up a few hours later, in the dark of the night, to find Brian going down on him, Justin's vaguely dissatisfied. It doesn't feel any different, Brian's mouth on his dick, than all those other nameless guys who sucked him off while Brian was gone, and the very fact that it doesn't feel any different, that this isn't somehow *special*, irritates him even further. Finally he grunts, and tugs on Brian's ears, pulling Brian's head up close to his face, and Brian has a questioning look on his face, because since when does Justin turn down getting his dick sucked, right?

Justin looks at Brian's face for a second, trying to tell himself that this is Brian, here, that he should be happy about this, and then he runs his hands through Brian's hair and says, "Kiss me."

Brian does, and that's better, because at least that's different from all the tricks, all the nameless men who he had to mutter "I don't kiss," to. And Brian's face is close to his, and he keeps his eyes open to look cross-eyed at Brian's features in the dark. But Brian picks up on the fact that Justin isn't quite with him, after a little bit. He pulls away briefly, and Justin pushes Brian all of the way off him and gets out of the bed.

Brian doesn't seem to have been expecting that. "Where the fuck are you going?" He asks, irritated, rolling up to support his head on one elbow.

Justin doesn't answer; he just stands there in the dark with his back to Brian. He can hear Brian take a deep breath behind him, and Brian tries again, with a slightly less angry and more tentative tone. "I thought we were in the middle of something here."

"Yeah?" Justin asks mockingly, angrily. He looks back over his shoulder at Brian, his body spread out on the sheets, and is suddenly furious at everyone who's ever seen Brian's body, as though he had some sort of right to claim that no one, from Brian's mother to his past fucks, had any right to see him. Justin takes a deep breath, and turns back out towards the empty living room, trying for a slightly lighter tone. "Well, I guess if you want to finish, you'll have to catch me first."

Brian doesn't move from the bed at first. He's hesitating, obviously unsure whether Justin is playacting or genuinely mad—Justin's not sure about that himself—and not sure what to do either way. Eventually, Brian scoots over to the edge of the bed to get off, and Justin starts off down the steps towards the living room, and Brian follows.

Brian pins him down on the hardwood floor, eventually, after a semi-serious wrestling match that will leave each of them with bruises in the morning. But Brian seems to have figured out what Justin wants, now, though Justin couldn't figure it out himself, and Brian clasps Justin's wrists tightly behind his back, pressing Justin's chest and knees uncomfortably against the floor, and fucks him hard. Justin presses his forehead against the wood, and grunts words of encouragement, which finally end up turning into sobs.

Afterwards, Brian feathers kisses over the back of his neck, but as soon as Brian lets go of his wrists, Justin gets his hands under him and shrugs Brian off, heading to the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

He stays in the shower for a long time, and when he comes out, Brian is either asleep, or more likely, gracefully feigning sleep. Justin's grateful either way, and climbs into the other side of the bed, and falls asleep quickly.

Justin awakes with a growing awareness that someone is staring at him. When he opens his eyes, he sees Brian standing over him next to the bed, fully dressed and packed up, obviously ready to go to New York, but looking very unsure.

"Mmm…hey," Justin says, feeling like he at least owes Brian that much after last night.

"Hey," Brian returns. "I'm heading off now," he says, gesturing off towards the loft door, but making no move to leave.

Justin sits up, and tries to give Brian a sincere smile, but he's not sure it works. "Brian," he says, trailing off because he's not sure what to say. "Have a nice trip to New York," he says finally, and he means that much.

Brian nods, slowly, and then he strokes his chin with his hand, and turns towards the door.

Justin sighs, because he's not sure he can let Brian leave like this. He gets out of bed, and Brian turns back when he catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. He pads naked over to Brian, and kisses him softly. "I mean it," he says, and Brian nods again, still looking vaguely confused, his eyes vaguely haunted.

Brian picks up his bag, and walks toward the loft door, though he stops a few feet from it, in what is probably the same spot he was standing when he came in last night. He turns back. "Justin, if you want…" he begins, but trails off. Then he shakes his head slightly and turns back towards the door.

"Later," Brian calls, sliding the door open.

"Bye," Justin calls out behind him. And from the bedroom, he hears Brian slide the door shut behind him violently, and it makes him flinch.

* * *

Justin returns to bed after Brian leaves, out of a blatant desire to escape having to think about anything, and he wakes up around noon. He looks around the loft, and nothing's different this morning than it was yesterday morning, except for the coconut on the counter and Brian's dirty jeans in the hamper, which is overflowing, Justin notes, making a mental note to go to the laundromat.

He walks blearily over to the kitchen, blinking his eyes and trying to fight off that kind of headache you get from sleeping poorly but too long, pours himself a bowl of cereal and starts the coffee maker. Wandering around the kitchen, he notices that the trash needs to be taken out, too, and he pulls the basket out from under the counter.

When he does, he notices that on the top of the heap of garbage, there's a bag from the bagel shop down the street. This is only odd because he knows he hasn't been there in weeks, so he pulls the bag out, and realizes that it has something in it. Tentatively, he opens it up, and finds an egg bagel with lox cream cheese, which is of course his own very favorite kind.

Using the logic of a male only slightly out of his teens, he decides that the outer brown bag has obviously protected the bagel from contamination, and digs right in, while speculating about where the bagel must have come from. The source seems obvious—Brian must have gotten it, presumably for him, since Brian can't stand lox cream cheese because it doesn't come in lite. That doesn't explain why it was in the garbage, though, and suddenly Justin panics that maybe a dog or something had slobbered on the bagel and that's why Brian threw it out. He thinks about that for a moment, and then decides he's already eaten it and it's too late anyway, so oh well.

Looking back at the garbage can, he also finds two cups of coffee from the bagel place—one empty, and another half full with coffee leaked all over the rest of the garbage. He doesn't salvage that, preferring to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee from the coffeemaker. The coffee in the trash is cold, anyway, Brian must have gotten it when he first got up, hours ago.

Justin pulls on some clothes and takes out the trash, wondering if he's touched by this aborted gesture or not. He knows that you have to interpret Brianese; he knows that Brian coming home for one night only really means that Brian was anxious to see him right away. So he knows intellectually he should interpret it all as Brian missing him and wanting to see him, even before Brian went to see Michael or anyone else. He *knows* that, but he *feels* like Brian's just left him again, with a few words and some garbage and dirty clothes.

When he gets back in the loft from taking the trash down to the dumpster, his cell phone is ringing. He gets it out of his backpack and answers it.

"Hey," Brian says from the other side of the line.

Justin creases his eyebrows and tries to figure out why Brian's calling. "What's up?"

"Mmm, nothing," Brian says, and he sounds pretty genuine.

"Why are you calling, then?" Justin asks, puzzled. He can hear various muffled noises filtered through the phone line, and wonders where Brian is.

"I just wanted to tell you I got here."

"Oh," Justin says, sipping his coffee. "Got where?"

"I left my hotel information on the fridge," Brian says, and when Justin looks over, sure enough, it's right there, scrawled on a piece of yellow paper in Brian's distinctive handwriting. "But I'm just in the airport now," Brian admits. "I'm on my cell phone," he explains.

"Uh huh," Justin says, staring at the yellow sheet of paper, and starting to feel really confused. "Are you going to call me again when you get to your hotel?" He asks.

"If you want," Brian offers, and Justin has the weirdest impulse to take the phone away from his ear and inspect it to see if it's been tampered with.

"You do that," he tells Brian, and quickly hangs up the phone, which doesn't appear to have been replaced by an alien pod device or anything, though of course Justin's not completely sure what an alien pod device phone would look like. His eye catches again on the bright yellow paper on the fridge, and the beginnings of smile start to form on his face. Maybe this is slightly different after all.

* * *

Justin and Debbie watch Brian on daytime talk shows all week while delegating all the real work at the diner to Hunter, much to the customers' dismays. Brian is both a talk show host's dream and nightmare. He's attractive, witty, and mysterious, so there's a lot for them to probe into. He's also temperamental, evasive, and has a tendency to walk off of the show if asked the wrong question.

The hosts always start off by asking if it was hard to go through the rough survival subsistence living on the island for three months. Brian replies that it was awful, because "no one gave decent head." Then they ask something about his strategy for winning the show—by this point Brian is already distracted by a hot guy somewhere else on the set, and his attention is jerked back to the host with each question. "Oh," Brian says to that, eyeing the attractive guy, "I just did what came naturally."

Hosts quickly learn that questions about his family produce absolutely no response, questions about the sort-of boyfriend get evasive answers, and almost every question will be answered with a sexual pun or innuendo.

One perky redhead talk show hostess lucks into an interesting confession. After the traditional questions about living on the island, she shifts onto the topic of whether it's difficult to be gay.

"I don't know," Brian says. "Is it difficult to be straight?"

The redhead perseveres on without being deterred. "Do you face a lot of discrimination at work?"

Brian considers this for a moment, biting his lip, and the redhead waits anxiously for his response. "No," Brian says finally. "But some people do."

"What's the worst experience you've ever had with homophobia?" The hostess asks.

Brian's face freezes, and it looks similar to his normal blank expression, but even on the tiny diner television, Justin can tell.

After a pause, Brian shifts in his seat, resettling himself. "I once knew," he starts off, "the most beautiful boy. And he had the most beautiful smile," Brian turns to the hostess to emphasize this point. "When he smiled, it just lit up an entire room, like the sun." The hostess smiles encouragingly, but Brian looks away again, staring at a point in the back of the room. "And he went to his senior prom," Brian continues, gaze still vacant, "and he danced with another guy. And afterwards, another student hit him in the head with a baseball bat." The entire studio is dead silent, except for the quiet buzz of the cameras and lights.

Brian turns back to the hostess, rubbing his chin with his hand. "And now he can't smile like that anymore."

The redhead's face is slack, shocked by the story and the pure emotion that Brian has managed to convey in the stark retelling, and she's unable to say anything for a moment.

Brian shifts again in his seat, and then gets up and walks off the stage completely. The hostess recovers after another twenty seconds of silence, and cues a commercial break.

* * *

Justin gets calls from Brian frequently, at least once a day and sometimes more. The first few calls are awkward, like they're two strangers pretending they know each other making uncomfortable small talk. Justin pretends he knows what's going on in Brian's life, and Brian pretends it isn't pathetic to try to call Justin every few hours without anything to say.

On the third day of calling, Justin has just met with Michael, who's enthusiasm for their new project is contagious, and so when Brian calls, Justin just explodes into the phone with dozens of their ideas for new issues and layout, and most importantly—what they're going to do with their new riches.

Brian listens attentively, making snarky comments when appropriate. When Justin has finally run out of things to say about Rage, Brian shares some of his own plans—he has two more talk shows this week, and then the next week, he's flying to LA to star in a commercial. "They offered to fly me out to LA this Friday," Brian explains, "even though I don't have to be there until Monday. Apparently there's this luxury spa I can stay at."

"Uh huh," Justin says on the other end. "Sounds like fun," he offers.

"Eh, maybe," Brian says. "Or, I was thinking," Brian offers tentatively, "maybe I could come home for a few days?"

* * *

So that's how Brian and Justin end up meeting Michael, Ben, and Emmett at the bar at Babylon on Friday night. After ordering a drink, Brian turns to Michael. "Look," he says, scratching his neck and generally avoiding eye contact. "I'm sorry I left without saying anything," he says to Michael, kind of in a rush. Ben, standing behind Michael, wonders if this is an insight into how Brian and Justin's reconciliation is progressing. Because though the two are both here, and together, there's a tension between them.

"I forgive you, asshole," Michael says, forever understanding of Brian's ways.

Brian looks up, vaguely surprised at how easy that was. "Really?"

"Yep," Michael says. "It's easy," Michael continues, grinning, "now that I have video evidence," Michael emphasizes those two words, video evidence, "of you standing on a tree stump, singing at the top of your lungs."

Brian rests his elbows on the bar and leans his head down in his hands.

"My favorite part," Emmett chimes in, "was when he *volunteered* to be the one to sing for his team."

"Yeah," Michael agrees, and the whole gang's laughing at Brian now. "And the song he chose—" Everyone joins Michael to break into a chorus of 'Old MacDonald had a farm' at Brian's expense.

"Maybe that weed patch wasn't such a good idea, eh, Bri?" Ben says, grinning.

Brian shakes his head. "That never happened," he denies.

"The camera doesn't lie, Brian," Michael says.

Brian tries to claim that the whole standing-on-one-leg-singing-stupid-nursery-rhymes thing was a computer generated special effect, and the rest of the gang generally enjoy laughing at him, reminiscing about their favorite stupid Brian moments from the show.

Eventually, Brian and Justin move to the dance floor, but they don't dance for long before Justin whispers something in Brian's ear and they both head for the door.

"Well, it looks like they're working things out," Ben comments to Michael.

Michael has of course been oblivious. "Working what out?"

"Their relationship," Ben explains.

"Picture it this way, sweetie," Emmett suggests. "Remember how mad you were in the diner when you first found out Brian had left and you didn't know whether he was all right?" Michael nods. "Well, combine that with how you felt when you thought Ben was going to Tibet, and that's how Justin's feeling."

"Except Brian really went to Tibet," Michael concludes.

"Brian went to Tibet and fucked a lot of guys on national television," Emmett summarizes. "Justin's a saint."

* * *

Brian has to fly out Sunday afternoon, but Sunday morning finds Brian and Justin just lounging around the loft. Brian gets up to make coffee, and Justin's lying on the bed, paging through a magazine he bought the day before to read the interview the magazine did with Brian and see the pictures from his photo shoot.

The pictures of Brian are beautiful, dressed up in various outfits of designer clothing and posed lazing indolently. The photography is obviously professional, and it captures Brian so perfectly—it gives Justin that nagging unsettled feeling in his stomach that he refuses to call jealousy.

Brian comes back to the bed with two mugs of coffee. "How do I look?" he asks Justin, nodding towards the magazine. Justin rolls on to his back to look up at Brian, who sets both of the coffee cups on the nightstand.

"You look beautiful," Justin says honestly, taking in this picture of Brian as well—Brian in his dark silk robe with bed hair.

Brian grins, crawling onto the bed and sprawling himself down on top of Justin. "Good," he says, nuzzling his face into Justin's neck.

"Brian," Justin starts kind of tentatively, and Brian pops his head up in response. "I want to do a photo shoot of you," he says finally.

Brian raises an eyebrow. "You becoming a photographer?"

"Not exactly," Justin says, humming appreciatively as Brian returns his attention to Justin's neck. "But I want to dress you up, and pose you under the lights, and just…look at you." He runs his hands up under Brian's robe. "Draw you," he continues.

Brian pulls his head up again to look at Justin, and suddenly Justin's insecure about how Brian will respond to this request. "It sounds hot," Brian says finally, his voice thick with lust.

"Good," Justin says, satisfied, and he pulls Brian down for a kiss.

* * *

In LA, Brian is starring in a cologne commercial. It's pretty simple—all he has to do is pose with his hair mussed, his shirt open to reveal his chest, and a facial expression that suggests he's experiencing a mediocre blow job. The camera moves around to film from weird angles to suggest the essence of the latest scent, aptly named "Survivor."

Filming takes a long time, though, because Brian keeps getting up to go confer with the producer about the cell boards and the scheme of the commercial. He has all sorts of ideas about how the commercial should be improved. The producer, used to idiotic male models, is at first irritated with Brian's refusal to sit still while they film. Once Brian engages him in a discussion of the target marketing audience and the use of the sepia toned wash, though, the producer is hooked, and he and Brian end up going over the commercial plans for the entire new line of scents, much to the dismay of everyone else on the set, who is left sitting around wondering what to do without the model and producer.

After Brian has completely redesigned the entire company's marketing campaign and organized the Survivor commercial to present himself at his best advantage, they finally finish filming in only half an hour.

* * *

Back in Pittsburgh, Liberty Avenue is mobbed by tabloid reporters. Brian's evasive answers to interviewers about his 'sort-of boyfriend' have stirred up public interest, and there's a manhunt going on for the boyfriend of Brian Kinney.

Everyone on Liberty Avenue knows that Justin Taylor is Brian Kinney's man, so one wouldn't think the reporters would have to look very far, but one would be wrong. Instead, any queer asked about the boyfriend of Brian Kinney does one of two things: either he claims that he, himself, actually is the famed boyfriend, claiming a few minutes on television to wave to his mother, or he immediately begins recalling the one time that he had sex with Brian Kinney.

"I think it was back in '93," a guy holding motorcycle helmet recalls. "Or was it '94?" He turns to his partner.

"It was the year you got the Harley," his partner says.

"Oh, yeah! So it was definitely '94." He sighs wistfully. "Man, that was a good year."

No one escapes the public questioning. Even the supposedly straight musician Ethan Gold is spotted leaving a hotel of questionable repute with another guy, and is questioned. Justin happens to catch the spot on television at Daphne's.

"The boyfriend of Brian Kinney," Ethan spits out the name acidly, "does not exist. Because Brian Kinney is a selfish, lying, conceited asshole who doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship."

This comment suggests that Ethan knows something about Brian, so the reporters try to follow up on it, but Ethan sticks his hand out to cover the camera lens, and the clip is cut off.

* * *

The next day, on the way to the diner, Justin catches sight of a tabloid headline that reads, "Kinney Boyfriend Tells All!" This justifiably interests him, so he picks it up to read the article.

At some point, the reporters got wind of a clue that said that Kinney's boyfriend was really young—maybe underage, and that's why he wouldn't say anything about him. And now, the brave boy has come forward to tell his story and reveal all of Brian's darkest secrets.

It still takes Justin a minute to figure out why there's a picture of Hunter on the front page.

When he gets to the diner, Deb is somewhat confusedly confirming to all the reporters that yes, Brian Kinney's boyfriend does work there. Before she can out him in front of a dozen tabloids, he quickly pulls her into the kitchen. "Deb, look at this." He shows her the copy of the paper he'd had to purchase.

"What's Hunter doing on the cover?" She asks.

"He's claiming to be Brian's boyfriend," Justin explains. "Apparently he's 'told all,' now."

Debbie rips the paper out of his hands. "And people believe that little shit?" She demands.

"Apparently," Justin says, rubbing his forehead and feeling the beginnings of a really bad headache coming on.

* * *

Hunter's on three television clips that morning, and around noon, there's an advertisement for Jay Leno promising the Queer Survivor hero Brian Kinney and a "very special guest," and that's worrisome enough to spring Justin into action.

Finally, he ends up on the phone with an agent from the Leno show. "You're Brian Kinney's boyfriend?" The guy says snidely. "Yeah, you and every other fag in Pittsburgh, and some from New York, too. One from Florida, even."

"But I have proof," Justin protests.

"Like what? A used condom?—I repeat, kid, you and every other—"

"I have newspaper articles proving that Brian Kinney was with me at my high school prom."

"Uh huh."

Justin continues persuasively. "Just let me fax copies of the articles to you. And my driver's license, too—solid evidence that it's me."

The guy sounds skeptical, but agrees to have Justin fax him the evidence. Justin stays on hold for a long time, pacing up and down the empty loft, and waits for the guy to come back, which he does, eventually. "So how soon can you get to the airport?"

* * *

Brian and Jay Leno make the usual small talk for a couple minutes before Leno announces that they have a special guest that they want to introduce to Brian. Brian raises a questioning eyebrow, and obediently directs his attention stage left, where Hunter walks in.

The look on Brian's face is perfect—a mix of dumbstruck and about to laugh. Hunter swaggers across the stage and comes to sit down in the chair next to Brian. "Hi, honey," Hunter says smugly, wrapping his arm around Brian's shoulders.

Brian's still staring vacantly and sort of shaking his head slowly. "Hi Hunter," Brian says finally, in his most sarcastic tone, though Hunter doesn't seem to notice, still beaming smugly out at the audience.

"So you two have met?" Leno surmises.

Brian rubs his forehead and looks like he, too, is suffering the beginnings of a giant headache. "You could say that," Brian says.

There are another couple moments of inane questions and answers before Leno pauses to accept a note from one of the producers who's run up the side of the stage to his desk. "Apparently we have yet *another* guest we'd like you to meet, Brian," Leno announces.

Brian pinches the bridge of his nose. "Great," he says, still sarcastic. He's looking down so he misses the first moments that Justin walks on the stage, but eventually he looks up, and when he sees Justin, he shakes Hunter's arm off his shoulders, stands up, and looks like he's tempted to run across the stage, lift Justin up in his arms and spin him around in a circle.

He doesn't, though, he walks over to meet Justin in the middle of the stage, interlocking both of Justin's hands in his own. "Hey," Justin says, but Brian doesn't say anything, just leans over until their lips meet. He lets go of Justin's hands so that he can clinch Justin closer and weave his other hand into Justin's hair, pulling Justin into what is later called "the sexiest television kiss *ever*."

Eventually, Hunter is escorted off the stage, and Justin tugs on one of Brian's hands to have them both go sit down back to the desk. Justin introduces himself to Leno while Brian is still busy staring at Justin with a dopey grin on his face.

"So, Justin, what do you do?" Leno asks.

"I'm an artist," Justin replies.

"Really?" Leno just looks relieved that he hasn't said he's anything morally questionable, like a hustler high school student. "What kind of art do you do?"

"I'm the illustrator for a gay comic book called 'Rage.'"

Leno nods agreeably. "So I take it you are, in fact, Brian's boyfriend."

Brian comes out of his trance to answer. "He's the real thing," Brian says, looking into Justin's eyes.

"Aww," Justin teases. "I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

Brian actually sticks his tongue out at Justin in response to that comment, and Justin grins. Brian reaches his other hand—the one that isn't already holding Justin's—over to wrap around the back of Justin's neck to pull Justin in close for another kiss.

Leno clears his throat pointedly. "So, Brian, now that you've won Queer Survivor, what are you going to do next?"

"You mean am I going to Disneyland?" Brian asks mockingly.

"Figuratively speaking, yes. There're rumors that someone's even suggested a movie deal for you—can you tell us anything about that? What's in the works?"

Brian looks at Leno, then back and Justin, and answers slowly. "My plan," he announces, "is to go home with my boyfriend and fuck."

Leno turns to face the audience. "And what a plan that is, ladies and gentlemen, what a plan that is."

* * *

EPILOGUE:

Brian buys a huge screen TV for the loft—liquid, of course—which he says is "all the better to watch myself with." He hasn't bought any furniture yet, though, so he and Justin are lying on a collection of cushions and blankets all spread out in the middle of the living room floor, watching the tape of the Leno show.

Brian's laughing at Justin on the tape, who is caught up in a girly squabble with his persistent rival, Hunter. "Oh, look how you bitchslapped Hunter," he teases, spreading himself over Justin's back and resting his chin gently on Justin's shoulder.

"I did not bitchslap Hunter," Justin denies.

Brian just chuckles and buries his face in Justin's neck. "The camera doesn't lie, Sunshine," Brian sing-songs.

Justin shifts around, rolling over so that he's looking up at Brian's face hovering above him. They're both grinning helplessly. Justin knows intellectually that eventually they're going to have to stop just grinning at each other all the time, but he feels like this could go on forever. "Brian?" Justin asks sweetly. Brian raises his eyebrows. "Can you go get me some ice cream?"

Brian rolls his eyes, but raises himself off the cushions and pads off towards the kitchen. He grabs a carton of mint chocolate chip out of the freezer, and heads back towards the cushions, snagging the mail off the counter on his way.

He tosses the carton and a spoon at Justin gently, plopping himself back down on the cushions, and begins sorting through the mail as Justin opens up the carton. Brian lets Justin feed him a spoonful of ice cream, and then Justin begins eating in earnest as Brian opens and reads one of the letters.

"Huh," Brian says finally, tossing the letter towards Justin. "Look at this," he tells Justin.

"What's it say?" Justin asks, his mouth full of ice cream, which dribbles down his chin as he talks.

Brian leans over to lick up the trailing ice cream. "Apparently there's this new game show—The Gay Newlywed Game—and they want us to be contestants."

Justin feels his draw drop, drooling more ice cream down his chin.

Brian raises his eyebrows at Justin questioningly before leaning in to lick up more ice cream. "So, you interested?"

THE END


End file.
